


Break

by sierraraeck



Series: Aundreya Chambers [14]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aaron Hotchner - Freeform, Angst, Aundreya Chambers, Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Criminal Minds Family, David Rossi - Freeform, Derek Morgan - Freeform, Emily Prentiss - Freeform, F/M, FBI, Gen, POV Original Female Character, Penelope Garcia - Freeform, Prison Arc Reimagined, Slow Burn, Spencer Reid - Freeform, Spencer Reid Angst, The BAU Team as Family (Criminal Minds), bau, jennifer jareau - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29186406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierraraeck/pseuds/sierraraeck
Summary: Series Summary: This is a series following Aundreya Chambers and her experience with the BAU, Spencer, and trying to navigate the FBI as a high-profile criminal. And things get very messy.Chapter Summary: As the situation for Spencer in prison continues to get worse, Aundreya has to come up with something to save him and fast. Story fourteen.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), The BAU Team/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Aundreya Chambers [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130924





	Break

**Author's Note:**

> Just a reminder that I don’t actually know how prisons work.

All bad things happen at 3am. 

I am convinced. 

If you can get to 4am, you are in the clear, but until then, 3am is coming to bite you in the ass. 

The last time I got a call at 3am, it was to inform me that Derek’s cousin was missing and we had to save her.

This time, it was to let me know that Spencer was in critical condition in the prison infirmary. 

I was the first one at the office other than Hotch who made the calls. The rest of the team wasn’t too far behind me, all walking in with the utmost sense of urgency. 

Except for Derek.

Who was _pissed_. 

“I thought you said that those things were going to help him!” he spat in my direction. Derek, Aaron, and I had kept our promise on not telling the rest of the team how bad of a condition Spencer was in, and I didn’t let either of them in on my plan with the chains and fake backstory until Derek figured it out and told Aaron. 

The rest of the team stopped in their tracks to try and understand what he was talking about. “Yes, they were supposed to and they have for weeks,” I replied, attempting to stay calm.

“That’s not good enough. Instead of protecting him, you put a target on his back,” he accused.

“Woah, calm down-” Prentiss tried.

“I am not going to calm down! Reid got stabbed, Emily. He almost died! And it’s because of her,” he said, turning his fiery gaze on me again.

“That is not fair,” I dropped my voice almost to a whisper and my nostrils were flaring.

“Oh really? Because I think that those guys wouldn’t have made an elaborate plan to kill him if he’d just kept his head down. Those bracelets of yours drew attention to him and they probably hurt him only to get back at you for whatever the hell you did to them,” he said. His voice was cold and dry, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. If Spencer would have been better off without me altogether. The answer had to be yes.

I was thankful for Emily’s persistence to understand because she saved me from having to respond. “What are you talking about?”

“Chambers here went to visit Reid. She gave him those bracelets and rings of hers that identify her as The Figure, or the gang-slash-ring leader or whatever. She told him to wear them and to ‘drop the innocent act’ and to tell other inmates that he was associated with her. Look where that got him.”

“It’s not her fault, Morgan. That could have happened to him either way, and it could have happened sooner had he not had those with him,” Prentiss tried. She was one of the best people who could get through to Morgan, but this time, it didn’t seem to be working.

“Or it could have not happened at all. I guess we’ll never know considering she continues to make decisions about his safety without input from the rest of us,” he hissed. 

“You’re right, we won’t know,” Hotch said, emerging from his office. “All we have now is that it happened and we have to move on and try to do what’s best for him. Which includes working together to solve this case and get his name cleared. Understand?”

Derek sent one more dagger through me with his eyes before looking up at Hotch, “Yes.”

“Chambers?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Rossi is on his way to visit Reid and update us along the way. The rest of us need to look harder at this case,” Hotch said. 

We all headed up to meet him in the briefing room and Prentiss quickly caught up to me. “Hey, it’s not your fault. Don’t let him make you feel bad about it. You were just trying to help.”

“Thanks Emily, but he’s right. I wasn’t being helpful,” I let out a small sigh and shook my head, “and it never seems like I am.”

With that, we entered the room and got to work.

* * *

“So all we have is Reid talking to Corbyn Young, a kid who was a part of Aundreya’s ring who ended up dead only hours after Reid talked to him because he thought Corbyn was stalking him, and a sketchy message from someone who she’s pissed off?” JJ confirmed, gesturing my way. 

Morgan scoffed under his breath, “Yeah, that really narrows it down.” I didn’t even bother to glare at him.

“Chambers, can you think of anyone in particular that would do something this intricate?” Hotch asked. 

“Yes. Like half of the people from my past,” I said, confirming what Morgan stated. Hotch sighed. 

“We’ve been going over all of this and looking into more angles for weeks and we are no closer to getting him out that we were when we started,” JJ huffed. 

“This sonuvabitch is thorough,” Morgan said. 

I sat there going over every single person I thought was capable of doing this, hoping I could think of anyone other than who I’d already suspected. 

My train of thought was interrupted by a phone ringing. 

“Yes?” Hotch answered. There was a mumbling on the other line before Hotch paused and said, “He’s going to be fine. He just woke up.” A collective sight spread throughout the room. “Yeah… Are you sure?... Anything else we need to know?... What do you think?... Sure… Yes, that is true… I’ll let her know. Thanks Dave.” With that, he hung up and turned to look at me. “He wants to see you.”

“What?” Derek, JJ and I all blurted at the same time.

Hotch and Prentiss exchanged an unreadable look. 

“Head down there. We will continue without you,” is all he told me. I nodded, and quickly scanned the reactions around me. Confusion, disgust, betrayal, concern. A mixture of some or all of those. 

But there wasn’t much time to think through it. I just left the remaining five of them to their work and headed for the prison. 

* * *

“Hey Doctor Genius,” I said as I slipped into the infirmary. Rossi was sitting in a chair next to him.

“Hey,” he said, sitting further up. 

“I thought we agreed that this wouldn’t happen again,” I playfully scolded. He quirked one side of his mouth up. 

“I guess you’re just gonna have to keep showing up to help me,” he said. It was meant to be a joke, and I knew that the time he got shot wasn’t what he was trying to get at, but it was all I could think about when he said ‘help me.’ I vividly remembered what happened the last time I offered to help him. 

But I played along. “Maybe I should start charging.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Rossi accused. I let a small laugh escape my lips as Rossi got up to leave. “I’ll be back.”

Once he left, I occupied the seat he’d just vacated. “Darrell?”

“Yeah.”

“And his two friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

Instead of answering, he exposed his stomach to me. There were two wounds with stitches through them. One was just to the left of his belly button and the other was just above it, forming a line about two inches long. If I had to guess, the scar ended right where his ribs started. 

“They compliment your other one,” I commented. 

“Thanks,” he said, covering himself back up. 

We sat in silence for a while before the question I’d had for almost two months starting nagging at the back of my mind. I wanted to wait for the right time to ask, but I really didn’t think that would ever come. So I just went for it. 

“How was your date with Maeve?”

He was thrown for a loop. His eyes got wide and he furrowed his brow. Clearly this was not the question he was expecting. “It was fine.”

“Fine? That’s all?” I gave him an encouraging smile.

“I showed up, she almost got all the way to the restaurant when I thought I saw her stalker.”

“Her stalker?” I was astonished. He’d never mentioned this before.

“Oh. Yeah. That’s why we didn’t plan to meet sooner and why I have to call her on payphones. It’s because she has a stalker,” he tried to sound matter-of-fact, but I detected the disappointment behind the statements. 

“Oh Spence,” I said. His nickname just slipped out and he noticed, but I kept going. “I’m so sorry. What made her wanna meet, then?”

“She thought they were gone. She thought she was in the clear, but when I showed up, there was a man who just kept looking over at me and I got worried and called it off.”

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated. 

“Me too,” he said, dropping his gaze. 

“Is there anything I can do?” I offered. It was a long shot, but I figured I might as well put it out there.

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean that you haven’t been able to contact her for weeks, and she’s got to be worried. If I can call or check up on her…” I trailed off, not really knowing what I’d do. I was hoping he had an idea. 

“Um, I don’t know. I don’t want her to know about … _this,_ ” he said. 

“I understand that. I can leave that part out and just assure her you’re okay and that you didn’t just fall off of the face of the Earth,” I suggested. 

“Yeah. I guess. I just don’t know how she’d feel about me giving her number to someone else, you know?”

It was a valid point and I could tell he was conflicted. “It’s up to you. I will do whatever you want.” 

He sat there pondering before answering, “No. As much as I don’t want her to worry, I won’t risk her safety.”

“Okay. That’s a good choice,” I said, granted, I would have agreed with his decision either way. 

“Do you guys have anything?” he asked. 

I tried to ignore how desperate his eyes were when I replied, “We’re working on it.”

“Okay.”

“But I have a plan,” I said. His eyes snapped right back to mine. “Please, just hold on for a little bit longer.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m going to get you out of here,” I whispered. 

Realization struck his eyes. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“Of course it is. I will be in and out,” I promised.

“You could get caught,” he pleaded.

“I won’t. They didn’t catch me the first time, they won’t catch us the second time.”

“ _Us?_ ” his level of concern was on the rise. 

“I’ve got a round trip ticket and you’ve got a one-way out.”

“It’s a bad idea.”

“It’s the best one we have.”

“There’s got to be a better way,” he breathed. 

“I’m not sure there is. And I’d rather have us both be on the run than leave you in here and have you end up dead, knowing I could have done something more.” He had nothing to say to that, so I finished with, “One of those situations you can get out of, the other one you can’t. Buying you, and the team, more time to clear your name is the best case scenario.”

I saw his eyes flick towards the door and I turned around to see Rossi approaching. 

I rushed, “Don’t worry about it. Just keep yourself in here and in solitary as long as you can. I’m coming to get you.”

* * *

I signed myself up to go back to my least favorite place on Earth.

Prison.

The problem was, that if I was going to break him out, I very well couldn’t do it as a visitor. I would have to become a bit more _involved_. As much as I didn’t want to, being an inmate again was going to be the easiest way in and out. 

That being said, I had to do something that would warrant me going to prison, _without_ being something super extreme like murder. White collar crimes would take too long to set up, so I was thinking theft? Vandalism? Destruction of private property? Trespassing? Drug dealing? 

While those were all viable options, I had one that seemed even better. Or maybe worse. But definitely quicker, more effective, and immediately on hand.

Assaulting an FBI agent.

Granted, _I_ was an FBI agent, so it might seem more like a workplace quarrel, but I went into it with a Plan A, a Plan B, and of course a Plan C. 

I arrived back at the office, but waited in the parking lot for my text to be delivered.

It only took a couple of minutes before Derek Morgan was exiting the building, approaching me at a rapid pace. 

“I got your text, what’s up?”

“Hit me.” It was a simple command but one that obviously didn’t make sense to him.

“What?” Derek’s eyes got wide.

“Hit me!” I said louder, as if my volume change would help him understand. When he continued to look at me dumbfoundedly, I blew an irritated breath out of my nose, then hit him right in his perfectly chiseled jaw. It kinda hurt. “I said hit me!”

As he recovered, he turned around and tossed a fist at my head, which I easily ducked under. I was honestly surprised he was willing to come at me after only one punch, but I guess his anger and disgust for getting his younger brother hurt overpowered his usually clean conscience. That, or my commanding and urgent tone really convinced him to do what I asked. Potentially both. 

“Oh come on, Derek,” I taunted, “That can’t possibly be your best.”

He wiggled his jaw, but took a step back. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I am _not_ going to do this.” _I guess he’s stronger than I thought._

He turned to walk away, but I came up behind him and swept his legs out from under him. He landed on his ass and had the wind knocked out of him.

“The first rule of fighting is to never turn your back to your opponent,” I said with a condescending tone. I gave him room to stand up, which he quickly utilized, turning to face me. 

“Why are you doing this?” he asked me. It’s as if the asphalt stripped him of his anger in addition to his breath.

“Because I figured I’d have the most fun kicking _your_ ass,” I replied. I went in for my second strike and he moved out of the way, catching my fist in his. I pivoted away and elbowed him in the ribs with my free arm.

 _I don’t want to hurt you too badly,_ I thought, _but I need to fuel you enough so you’ll fight back._

He grunted but tossed me away from him, putting his foot out in the process causing me to trip. The sting of the pavement left nice tears in my pants right over my already bleeding knees.

“No need to hold back, Derek,” I grumbled, “I thought I already warned all of you to never go easy on me.” He could have hit me with no problem, but he opted to trip me instead. I couldn’t have any of that if my plan was going to be successful. 

“Why are you doing this?” he repeated.

I pushed off from my hands so I was standing, brushing the little rocks out of my palms and raised my eyebrows, “I deserve it, don’t I?”

I didn’t give him time to answer because I went in for a kick. I made contact with his shoulder which made him stumble backwards.

“Huh?” was all he could manage.

I went in for another kick, aimed at his right shoulder this time, and only barely made contact before he grabbed my ankle with his strong hands. He held me firmly where I was, and I almost wanted to smile at the opportunity. It was a move I had mastered, but hadn’t performed in a long time. I pushed off of my other leg, springing into the air and completing a 360 turn. Usually, I’d kick the other person in the face as I went, but I didn’t want to do too much damage to Derek. That wasn’t my main goal. Instead, I kicked over his head, but the movement was strong enough to break his grip on my other ankle. I landed one foot after the other, returning to a typical fighting stance and read the look of astonishment in his eyes. 

I persisted, “I mean, I’ve hurt people. _Killed_ people. I’m no better than the murderers we hunt. I’ve been manipulating all of you, getting you to trust me for my own benefit, and look how that’s ended up. Some kind of profilers you guys are, letting a grade A criminal join your unit, then letting her rip you apart right under your noses. I’ve caused nothing but trouble for all of you since the day I joined. I almost got your best friend killed. Can you imagine that? Being shoved against the wall, the blade _dripping_ with his blood. _Slowly_ bleeding out on the floor of his dark cell, wondering if he was gonna die alone in a place he didn’t belong, having _that_ be his lasting legacy. I mean, I _was_ the only reason they targeted him. You said it yourself. I’m the reason he’s in prison in the first place,” I said deliberately, making sure to emphasize each word, letting the weight behind them sink in. I could _feel_ him winding up and it brought a curl to my lips. If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was act deranged and sound enticed by the idea of Spencer’s blood on the floor, hoping it would be enough. 

And it was.

I saw his foot shift forward an inch or two before his fist followed. This time, I let him hit me.

My head snapped to the far right. It was a dizzying feeling, and it almost forced me off my feet. 

I cackled as I turned to look at him, bringing the back of my hand to my mouth to wipe the sticky blood from my lips. The sight and smell, the whole atmosphere of fighting, brought back memories of my worst days, but honestly some of my proudest moments. I hated myself for it, but I meant it when I said, “I forgot how exhilarating this is.”

The look on his face was one I’d only ever seen him wear when staring down an unsub. I reveled in the fact that not only was my plan working, it was working perfectly. I decided I’d rip that disgusted look of his face, going in for a punch I knew he’d dodge, instead making contact with my knee at the base of his throat. I heard him cough and bring a hand to his neck, but by now, I had his adrenaline pumping. He brought his other fist up and made full contact with the center of my stomach before following it up with a strike to my face.

We were both clutching at our most recent sore spots, my eye socket throbbing, preparing for the next blow when the doors behind me blew open.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Hotch hollered. 

I turned to look at him, and realized that the entire team had followed. I glanced above their heads and noticed the camera there. Garcia must’ve been watching. I accounted that they’d get us on camera, noting that I initiated it and he resisted, but I didn’t anticipate having a live audience.

Before either of us could answer, Derek came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, attempting to restrain me. 

“First rule of fighting: never turn your back on your opponent.”

“Second rule: make sure you have the proper grip.” I clasped my hands together and brought both of my elbows down into his ribcage, then shot my hands up into his face. It pushed his weight slight backwards, and while he still had a pretty good hold on me, it faltered only for a second. But that was all the time I needed. 

I pushed my arms against his while forcing my spine into his chest. It created even more wiggle room, enough that I could turn and face him. He grabbed my wrists, and I wrapped my hands around his in return. I tossed my whole body weight towards the ground while driving my heel into his shin, forcing his weight toward me. Before he could land on top of me though, I put my other foot up, centered on his torso, and flipped him clean over me. It was the second time I knocked the wind out of him, and I kipped-up to standing. 

I could have easily kicked the shit out of him at this point, but the look of horror on sweet Penelope’s face stopped me from completely losing myself. Had I not looked away, I wouldn’t have been able to follow through on my plan. _My plan to save Spencer._ That’s what I was repeating over and over in my head, convincing myself this was the right thing to be doing. 

I planted a single foot on top of his chest, and looked down at him.

“Why are you doing this?” he pleaded, but this time it was different. He was no longer asking me why, he knew why, he was now asking me why I thought this was the best solution.

“I have to.” It was the best, and really the only, explanation I had. 

I heard Hotch approach us and I turned to him, drawing my gun. 

He halted in his tracks, and Rossi and the ladies behind him gasped. 

“Aundreya, what are you doing?”

“Cuff me.” It was a similar command to the one I gave to Derek only minutes earlier. 

“You want me to cuff you?” Aaron confirmed. 

I fired into the air, then tossed my gun toward him, watching it slide on the ground with a screech before being stopped by his rubber soles. 

“It’s protocol. I’ve assaulted an FBI agent and I pulled my gun on you, even firing off a shot. Cuff me.”

He slowly continued his path to me, all the while pulling his cuffs from his pocket. 

Derek stood up and helped restrain me as Hotch linked the cuffs behind me. He ushered me by the frozen agents, and it was like I could see the gears spinning in their heads. 

Once he got me through the entry doors, he whispered, “There was a better way. We were going to solve it.”

I knew I could count on him to put it together that quickly. He always did do the best job reading me. “You still have to. This is only a temporary solution.”

“Why?”

I was getting really tired of that question. If I never heard it again it would be too soon.

Other security guards were rushing down to detain me and move me to a temporary jail before transferring me to a prison. I quickly said under my breath, “If I don’t, he’s going to be dead before the end of the week. Then we will never save him. Do me one favor, and get me transferred to the same prison.”

He nodded as he handed me off to a bunch of guards in white uniforms. I gave him one single nod before turning away, awaiting my new cell; my new home.

* * *

So prison still sucked. It’s reassuring to know that some things never change. 

Aaron followed though and I was quickly relocated from my cozy little local cell to one in Reid’s prison. That’s a phrase I never thought I’d use. _Reid’s prison_. It left a sour taste in my mouth. 

The prison hosted both male and female inmates, but that meant we would be on opposite sides of the building. Him being in the infirmary would give me easier access to him, but the moment he went into solitary, the furthest cell away from our wing he could manage, that’s when things would get interesting. The only time we’d see each other would be through chain-linked fences at lunch and across the hall when being escorted from our cell to the library, or courtyard if we were lucky. But all I needed was one glance. Just _one glance_ to let him know that that shit was about to go down.

It was an eerie feeling, being back in prison. A place I had despised for four whole years of what I considered to be prime time for living at the ripe ages of 21 to 24. This wasn’t the same prison I’d spent time at, but it didn’t really matter. Every prison seemed the same. The four concrete walls slowly closing in on you, the bars that reminded you you were one of the government's rowdy pets that needed to be caged, the relentless scrutiny from everyone around you, inmates and guards alike. That only got better with male inmates to consider. Lucky for me, I was only there for one particular male inmate. 

Considering how bad Spencer got it, he’d most likely be in the infirmary for the next two days, then he’d be moved to solitary for the next four or so. The first day I was there, I had eyes all over me, so the only thing I could really do was take the lay of the land. On day two, however, I deliberately pissed some chick off. I let her throw a couple of good punches before pulling her down to the ground to shield me as I sliced my upper arm. It wasn’t too deep that I’d need stitches, but it was deep enough that they’d send me to the infirmary to get it checked out.

As I walked there, I admired my handy work. It had been a healthy while since I’d actually tried, practically _wanted_ , to get into this much trouble. It was honestly frightening how easy it was for me to slip back into this feeling, this old habit of mine that always seemed much too ‘in reach.’

I walked into the woman’s side of the infirmary, and had to suppress a smile when I saw Reid, still hooked up like he was when I saw him not even 60 hours earlier. I saw that he still had on my bracelets, and I admired the other half encircling my own wrist. I started to walk over to the little bed that was closest to the men’s side, hoping that I could catch his attention.

“Inmate!” someone yelled. I turned around to face the disrupting noise and saw a scruffy-looking nurse staring at me. I arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m talking to you. You don’t just get to sit down anywhere!”

Spencer didn’t even stir.

“Is there a problem with me sitting here?” I asked, lacing my voice with attitude. I saw his head snap up and look in my direction, but I kept eye contact with the nurse. 

“You don’t get to choose,” he snapped.

“Is there someone sitting here that I don’t know about? Or is this the bed you reserve for your imaginary girlfriend so you can jerk off on it later?”

The inmates in earshot snickered, so did a few of the guards. I could tell by this guy’s demeanor around all of us women that he was intimidated, so he probably didn’t have a lot of experience with girls. I could also tell by the way he carried himself, the general look in his eyes, that he was new. I figured I could play off of that and use it to my advantage.

“Shut up! This one,” he gestured to a bed a few over. 

I sat down on the one I wanted. “I’m pretty comfy here, thanks. Unless there really _is_ a reason I shouldn’t be sitting here.” I winked at him.

He looked at me and the corners of his mouth turned up in a snarl.

“I mean, I don’t really _smell_ anything, so I guess you’re not packing much of a punch, are ya?” I further demeaned, a smirk playing at my lips. “Maybe girls aren’t your thing. Ooh, maybe it’s _guys_. I don’t judge. But if that’s the case then-”

“Just sit down and shut up,” he said, having lost most of the confidence in his voice. I did as he said, happy to have earned the bed I wanted. I turned to look at Spencer who was cringing at my comments. I rolled my eyes, but I guess I did have quite the mouth on me, especially in here. It was good to see that he hadn’t changed _too_ much from what I could tell so far. Except for his physical appearance of course.

I met his eyes and I saw his scanning over me. The bruises that Morgan helped create we’re finally settling into a nice dark purple color.

“How did you-”

“Four days,” I cut him off. They weren’t going to let us exchange very many words so we had to use them sparingly.

“Four days?”

I nodded. “Tomorrow is one. Night four, be ready.” 

It was all I could get out before, “What’re you whispering about over here?” 

I turned on the interruption only to find the same irritating nurse from before. “Oh nothing, I’m just trying to figure out which one of you gets more dick. Honestly, I think scrawny over here can take it better than you-”

I was cut off mid sentence as a fiery tingling burnt my face. He’d slapped me straight across the cheek, certainly leaving a handprint. He grabbed my face and pinched my cheeks together, forcing me to look at him. “I’ve already told you to shut the hell up.”

I forgot how brutal everyone in this joint was. 

Spencer sat straight up and looked like he was about to say something, but I waved him off with a warning look.

“Just give me some goddamn gauze and I’ll get out of your ass about it.” I spit in his face just to emphasize my point. 

“Yeah. You better.”

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was just the whole atmosphere of being back in prison, or my heightened attitude because I knew I could get these people to treat me like a queen given more time, or what, but I followed with, “My bad. I thought that was where you liked it.”

This earned me another strike across the face, and I almost smiled at the pain. I could already feel both marks swelling up as he came back and hastily shoved gauze in my wound. 

“We’re done here,” he hissed.

“We sure are.” As I turned to walk out the door, I gave Spencer one last knowing look before leaving the infirmary.

* * *

I spent every minute of the next four days mapping out an escape route. The one night I spent in the local jail before getting transferred I stocked up on sleep because I knew I couldn’t afford that luxury in here if I wanted to get him out in time. I’d looked at some blueprints of the place the moment Reid landed in here, and reviewed them the night I called on Derek to fight me. But being able to transfer a bird’s-eye view from my memory into the much larger, 3D version wasn’t easy to say the least. 

I’d escaped out of nearly everything: local jails, prisons, police traps, FBI setups, and then my grand feat, a supermax. However, that had been a solid two and a half years ago, and all of the mini stunts before were at least seven. Don’t get me wrong, I still had all of those skills accessible and ready to dust off, it just wasn’t as easy as I recalled. 

I made every excuse to get outside of my cell and stay out for as long as possible. I walked everywhere. To the cafeteria, the courtyard, the library, all of the bathrooms multiple times, _anywhere_ I could get my feet to. I observed every door, every window, and the routines of the security guards. Keeping track of how they shifted, when and where, was the hardest part. I would have to time this absolutely perfectly, otherwise we were going to fail. And at this point, I feared failure meant death.

By night three, I had acquired a couple of tools that would be helpful. I found a couple paperclips that some poor bastard left on some really old papers at the back of the library which I could use as lock picks, a torn piece of metal I quickly transformed into a small dagger, and a variety of white powders. 

I may have let on that I was experienced with drugs, but I would never let anyone know just _how_ experienced. For most people, coc and heroin were serious shit. You didn’t just quit that stuff, it took a lot of work. But for me? I’d been on and off that stuff more times than I care to admit, so it wasn’t a big deal for me. There was only one drug combo in this world that I absolutely couldn’t resist, that’s why I had to stay away from it at all costs. It was actually part of the reason I got caught so many times in the first place, because it made me careless. Luckily in the supermax, ‘my’ drugs were unavailable, so I was forced to withdraw. That didn’t dampen my efforts, though. I was so desperate for the same effect that I taught myself how to combine drugs and make them react with other substances to elicit a similar feeling. I couldn’t always get my hands on what I wanted, so I had to get creative. I searched and searched for another combo of drugs that could give that same type of bliss, but I never found it. The reaction was never strong enough for me, but boy was it strong enough for everyone else in there. People would joke and call me ‘The Cooking Queen’ or ‘Chef’ because it became one of the primary things I did in there; mix and distribute drugs. Even guards would come to me asking for a fix. I got very familiar with many different combos and how they made people react. 

So the white powders I had with me were about to get turned into quite the powerful dose. I was hoping that we wouldn’t have to get close enough to any guard to have to stab them, and frankly, I didn’t want things to get that messy. Murdering people as you are trying to fight a murder charge isn’t really the way to go. Blowing powder in their face to incapacitate them, though? That was a plan I could get behind. 

In order to be fully prepared for the night to come, I had to figure out which cell Spencer was in. I knew there was no way I was gonna get that achieved during the day, so I was going to have to take my chances at night. Once I found him, I couldn’t just break him out that night because I wouldn’t know the closest and most preferable escape route. This was a variable I had never had to deal with before, and ultimately seemed the scariest. I would have to randomly run down the halls until I found which solitary confinement cell he was in. I would give myself just a few moments to study the lock, then I’d have to return to my cell, all without being caught. 

_Should be simple._

“Lights out!” a deep voice echoed through our hall. Seconds later, we were plunged into darkness. I waited for what I had determined was fifteen minutes, enough time for all of the wings to go lights out, before sauntering to my cell door. I had the paperclips bent in a certain way and started jiggling them around in the keyhole. I already knew where the camera was, and lucky for me, it was at a prime angle to almost entirely miss me. I wiggled them around for a few more seconds before I felt the satisfying ‘click’ of the lock opening. I retracted my hands and tucked the paperclips inside my bra. I felt for the makeshift dagger and the white powder bags that I’d mixed together earlier that day. I pulled out enough to just barely start a pile across all four fingertips. I clenched my hand and let out a sigh. This was when things were going to get fun.

I opened the cell door only wide enough for me to slip through and placed a paperclip in the lock so the door would appear shut, but could still be accessed quickly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

I whipped my head around, ready to see the barrel of a gun at my forehead, only to realize the noise came from another cell.

“If you shut the fuck up, maybe I can bust you outta here in a few days,” I urgently wispered, not even bothering to check who it was. 

“Why not now, huh?” the raspy voice demanded.

“With an attitude like that, I won’t come back for you,” I hissed. “Now shut up and stay off my ass.”

Whoever it was didn’t decide to say more, so I approached the one emergency light, my back hugging the wall. I could feel the damp chill through my jumpsuit as I slid along the side, trying to stay in the most darkness possible. I was tempted to check the angle of the camera, but I reminded myself that at this point, it was better to trust myself and be wrong than give them a clear shot of my face for later. If they were even paying attention. 

I cleared the light and moved toward the next cell door that separated the wings from the rest of the prison. I was in the lowest risk wing of the entire prison, thanks to Hotch and his prosecuting background, and because I decided I’d keep the crime as low-key as I could manage. This one popped open even easier, and I started to get back into the groove of this thing. 

The easiest way to get to the men’s side of the prison would be to walk around this main hallway that was basically a giant roundabout and super exposed. Unfortunately, there were about twice as many guards there as there was anywhere else in the prison. I would have to take the long way. 

_Left, right, right, left, right, straight, gate, right._

I repeated it over and over and over in my head. It was the way to the men’s solitary confinement cells. The men’s side was completely identical to the women's, only flipped. I memorized the route to our solitary section, so I just had to get it in my head that this was the opposite. 

I had made it past the gate, only having to dodge two guards so far, when right as I was about to turn down the hallway to the solitary section, a firm hand landed on my shoulder. 

“What the hell-” the deep voice started to shout. I didn’t give him time to finish, because upon turning around, I blew the white powder I’d been clinging onto right in his face. It was a marvelous shot, if I do say so myself. Right in his open mouth, and coating his nostrils. He coughed on his words, and it was like I could see the moment when he realized he’d been drugged, right before he collapsed into me. I caught him like we were kids daring each other to perform tress falls, and grudgingly dragged him into the darkest corner of the hallway. 

Once I got to the solitary confinement wing, I had three options to choose from. It felt like a bad riddle. _There are three doors: door one, door two, or door three._ Or in this case, three hallways. 

My momentum was already headed straight, so I continued that way, checking only the doors on the right side of me. There was only a small sliver of window I could look through, which didn’t provide me with enough of a visual to tell if the person was Spencer or not. I quickly decided that I’d lightly knock on the doors four times, hoping that he would understand my message from when I saw him earlier and respond with knocking as well. I went down the entire right side of the first hallway with no luck. I turned around and did the same thing on the left side. Still nothing. I crept toward the area where all three of the hallways converged, and realized that there was now a guard standing opposite me, back turned, blocking the way I’d come in. _Shit._

I scanned the rest of the area only to find no one else around, and held my breath as I tiptoed into the hallway to my left. I had to tap on the door even quieter this time around, and feared that even if he was in one of those cells, that he wouldn’t hear me.

_If he doesn’t hear you, you won’t know which cell he is in, and your whole plan is foiled. If he does hear you, but so does the guard, you are going to have to dust another one and hope no one else comes to check in._

My heart started pounding, but I suppressed the feeling. I had more important things to worry about than all of the ‘what-ifs.’ I continued my trek down the hallway, only to come up with a whole bunch of squat. This next movement from the far left hallway, to the far right hallway, was going to be a pain. I would have to stay near the wall for an extended period of time, or take my chances by walking through the middle, getting me there and outta sight faster. 

I decided to go with the first option. That strategy had worked very well for me so far, so why fix what’s not broken? I plastered myself to the cement as I inched along. I had just cleared the center hallway when I saw the guard slowly turn around. I turned back into the center hallway, coiling as far up into the nearest corner I could. After a minute or so, no one came to apprehend me, so I peered around the wall. The guard was standing there lazily, and I wondered how long I would be stuck like this. I periodically checked which way he was facing, and for what I guessed to be the next 20 minutes or so, he stayed facing my direction. I felt half asleep the next time I checked and he’d turned back around. My body felt stiff but I resisted the urge to crack my neck. I was not going to get caught because my spine was being too loud. I finally slunked into the right hallway, and continued my routine of four knocks. 

I had just turned to head back toward the entrance of the hallway, tapping on the left-hand doors, when I heard a few small taps come from the other side. 

“Reid?” I whisper-yelled.

Another string of four taps came in response. _Jesus Christ, thank god!_

I moved over to the cell door I heard them coming from and said, “Now that I know where you are, be ready tomorrow.”

He tapped out “O.K.” in Morse code in response to me, and I allowed myself a small smile as I evaluated the lock on his door. I didn’t remember locks being this complex before, and I feared my escape a couple years back may have had something to do with the upgrade. But never fear, one of the closest girls to me in my ring was a wizard with locks. I would just have to study it tomorrow, and with the help of what I could remember her telling me about them, I knew I could get him out. I had to.

* * *

I yawned.

I’d gotten back to my cell at about 1am, having to drug about three more guards on my way back. I still had about half of the bag of powder left, and would just have to hope that would get both Reid and I out. I spent the entirety of the fourth day in the library, or as much of it as they’d let me. I did all the research I could on gears and locks without drawing too much attention to myself. I even snuck a book or two out of the library with me, which I think the guards knew about, but just didn’t care enough. I got back to my cell and read until lights out, even just a bit past that, making sure I would know _exactly_ what I was doing once I got there. 

I started on my own lock just a little bit sooner than I had the night before, hoping to miss some of the guards I had to encounter, even if just by a couple minutes. I took the same path back to his cell, not coming into contact with a single guard. It made my job easy. _Too easy_ , I thought, but whatever was creating the ominous silence was out of my control. 

I reached his lock and rapped four times, just to double-check this actually was the right door.

Four knocks sounded on his end, and just as an assurance, SR in Morse code. I guess he knew I’d be super weary.

“Good,” I commented to myself, already getting to work on his lock. I was about halfway through when I heard footsteps approaching. 

“Hey, I think we may have another problem,” the guard radioed in, just barely entering the hallway. I quickly went to yank out the clips I’d been working with, turning the corner into the next hallway over, but only one came out. I was about to go back for the second clip when a beam of light reflected off of the door handle. I retracted my hand as if the light were a burning hot laser and pressed my back to the wall out of sight. 

I held my breath. _Another? What does he mean_ ‘ ** _another_** _problem?’ Is that why there was no security around?_

I could hear the footsteps sauntering forward until they stopped all together in front of what I assumed was Spencer’s cell. 

I heard jiggling before a heart-breaking click, undoing all of the work I had just accomplished. 

“Huh,” the officer huffed. “I guess it’s a false alarm.”

“We need you back here in E wing,” his radio announced.

“Copy that. I’ll be right there,” he responded, turning to leave.

_E wing? That’s where all of the worst criminals just under the murderers are kept. Those involved in manslaughter, armed robbery, gang affiliated violence and drug distribution, people who’ve… Oh shit. Darrell and his clique are in that wing. If I ever see him, I will kill that little motherfucker so fast, that he-_

_Stay focused, would you?_

I turned around and the officer was gone, taking my clip, and all of my progress, away with him. I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, then pulled out the dagger I still had with me. Was it as effective as a clip? Absolutely not. Was I going to make it as effective as a clip? Most definitely.

I spent the next ten minutes working around the dagger, figuring out how I could use it most effectively, and then the ten after that actually trying to unlock the damn thing. Finally, after about 25 minutes of working with the thing, rubbing blisters into my fingers, I heard the latch pop open. Before I could even celebrate, the door swung open, nearly flattening me on my ass. 

God, was he a sight for sore eyes.

“What was that?” he searched my face for any remaining panic.

“Improvising,” I stated casually. I reached out and grabbed his hand, forcing him to follow me. “Neither of us is going to talk from here on out unless absolutely necessary. You will do everything I say, no hesitation. And I fucking mean it this time, Spencer,” I barked, as if either of us needed a reminder of what happened the last time I gave him this order. And what happened when he disobeyed it. He nodded, eyes wide and trained on me. I gave a firm, single nod, and pulled him toward the hallway exit. I extended my arm and guided him to the wall so he was as hidden as I was. I gave him a handful of the powder, and went to hand him my dagger when he pulled out a makeshift one of his own. I raised my eyebrows. I wasn’t expecting that out of him, but prison is a pretty life-altering experience. I was a bit proud of him for continuing to adjust even when he’s out of his element, especially considering he isn’t one for change. “Just blow some directly at their face and they’ll be out in a few seconds.”

I peeked around the corner, and when I saw that no one was there, I tugged him out into the open hallway with me. We scampered into the next hall over, the one that would lead us to a loose vent in the kitchen bathroom. As we approached the men’s side of the cafeteria, the sounds of strangled screeches bounced off the walls. 

I turned to face Spencer, an expectant look in his eyes, and frantically rushed, “Duck!”

Luckily, he reacted unbelievable fast, and I blew the drugs over his head and into the face of a guard who must’ve been trailing us. Before he completely lost consciousness, he made a hail-mary attempt with his taser extended in our direction. He was about to make contact with the back of Reid’s neck, but I put my hand in the way before that could happen. My knees crashed into the floor, the uniform right behind me. The taser skidded out of his hand and I looked at it desperately. 

“Grab it,” I choked. He seemed hesitant to leave my side considering, but he did it anyway. 

“Are you okay?” he asked as he returned. 

“I’m great, just give me a minute or so.” I had been tased a number of times prior to this, so it wasn’t a huge deal. Actually, that was an understatement. I had been tased so many times on the street, in the gang, by cops, in prison, it was unreal. I learned how to cope with it, and learned a pretty effective way of waking my limbs back up. The sensation almost felt like sleep paralysis, and I had to focus on moving each toe, each ankle, each fiber of my body, until normal movement returned. I still couldn’t _feel_ everything right, but it would have to do.

“One minute and twenty-six seconds,” Spencer chirped. 

I knew what he was getting at, and I was certain he would ask me about it later, but for now, I just said, “Right on schedule, then.”

I pushed the cafeteria door open slightly only to find a mass of about 20 men in brutal hand-to-hand combat. I sighed and walked over to the fallen security, searching him for his gun. I yanked it out of its holster, and gave it a quick once-over before returning to the door. Spencer didn’t even question me. 

Actually, he made a move so sure of himself, that I couldn’t even react. He smashed his lips to mine, and I just stood there dumbfounded before my thoughts returned to me. I felt the cool metal of my chains around his wrist prick my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. I had just started to kiss him back when I pulled away. _This isn’t right. He’s got someone now and this is only a temporary feeling because I’m getting him out of this hellhole._

“Spencer,” I sighed, “You’re transferring.”

He stared at me in the faint light, and started to shake his head but I cut him off. “You have a great girlfriend, and you only feel like this because I’m breaking you out. She’s good for you and I don’t want to get in the way.” _And I, on the other hand, am_ _**not** good for you. I mean, look at where our friendship has landed you? Plus, you already chose her once over me, I don’t really want to go through that again. _

I looked back through the door and tried to continue like nothing had happened, “I’m hoping whatever the hell is going on in there is going to be distraction enough and we can just slip through into the kitchen bathroom. If not…” I cocked the gun. Reid swallowed and nodded. “On three. One. Two… Three.”

I shoved the door open, gun drawn, and we both made a break for the kitchen door. We successfully got inside the kitchen without notice, but the moment the door shut behind us, someone hit the weapon out of my hand. I watched in agony as it slid underneath the fridge, a place that would be near impossible to get it back from. 

“Not so fast, sweet cheeks.” The scruffy voice was coated in sugar, and I already knew who it was before I turned around. 

“What do you want, meatball,” I spat at Darrell’s oversized shoes. 

Darrell Fairchild, drug distributor and occasional hitman for the Angels, the Cloaks’ biggest rival. Once the Angels went under, he attempted to start his own ring like me, but needless to say, he was far less successful. Due to that, his primary goal with his possy was to cause as many headaches for us as possible. 

“Still with the name?”

“Still with the food?” Darrell could be described as a brick wall. He had broad shoulders and was a bit round in the middle, and was maybe only an inch or so taller than I was. Seeing the contrast between Spencer and Darrell was almost comical. Spencer looked alien-like tall, and his lean frame made Darrell look massive. I snorted at the sight. 

“Yeah, and you and string bean over here are my next meal,” he retorted. As if on cue, his right hand man, who’s name I still didn’t know, stepped out and grabbed Spencer. 

“You might want to reconsider. At best, he’d be an appetizer. I’m sure I can satisfy your tastes all by myself,” I winked. I knew there were better ways to go about this conversation, I just couldn’t help myself. I despised the guy. 

I heard the tile clink into place behind me, alerting me that this was no longer a one-to-one ratio. I spun around to see the really tall third guy in his clique only a foot away from me. That’s when I knew I had to spring into action. I took a jab at his face, which he moved to the side of, and in return went in for a right hook. I ducked under and was able to make solid contact with his gut. I knew Darrell would be on me any second, so I just shoved my foot back behind me, hoping that it would land. It did, in a sense, that I got him in the throat but he grabbed my ankle. Luckily, I had just dusted this move off a few days earlier when Derek had the same strategy. I launched off of my other leg, and this time I wasn’t so careful as to miss his face. The ear-splitting crack was followed by a very pissed grunt. I didn’t have time to admire my handiwork, which I figured was a shattered nose, but instead turned my attention right back to guy number three. I went in for another jab, which landed, but the one I received in return had to’ve hurt worse. That would be a problem for a later time, I decided, as I got back to work on another hook. He caught my wrist, and in my attempts to free it, he clung onto the other one. I struggled against his grasp, and went to knee him in the groin. As I did, I left myself unbalanced which Darrell quickly took advantage of. He swept me off my feet, collecting both size nines in his arms. I was completely suspended in the air and felt them hoist me higher. Both men shuffled a few paces over, and threw me with all of their might at the metal table next to us. 

“No, don’t! Aundreya!” I heard the familiar sound of Spencer’s voice croaking. I’d lost sight of him during the ‘excitement’ of the brawl, and could only imagine what was happening. 

The momentum of the throw sent me across the kitchen prep table and rolling onto the floor, taking any and everything in my path with me. I hit the floor with an earth-shattering thud as the metal utensils clanged around me. It took me a moment to catch my breath, and I was about to stand back up when something caught my eye. A small slide drawer was just slightly cracked, exposing the glint of a blade. I pushed the thing farther open, showcasing about ten different knives of all shapes and sizes. I immediately grabbed the biggest one, the blade having to be at least as long and wide as my forearm, and shut the cabinet all the way. I didn’t want anyone else having an advantage. 

I pushed back up, noticing that all of their attention was now on Reid. They’d already tried to kill him once and failed, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they were looking for redemption. I made eye contact with him between Darrell and his third in command, and he seemed to be holding his one arm ridiculously stiff, fingers curled upward. _The dagger._

He was ready to use it, but it wouldn’t do him any good if he was outnumbered three to one. I had to get their attention back on me, so I did the only thing I could think of. In one swift motion, I brought the blade down, slicing open the back of tall guy’s knee. He cried out, and it caused Darrell to swing his head back in my direction, his fist not too far behind him. For a split second before his punch landed, I saw Spencer plunge the dagger into his captors thigh. Another screech pinged through my ears, mixing with a grunt of my own as I returned to the floor. Darrell was never one for moving super quickly, so I knew he was still in my range. I drove my heel upwards, making contact with god knows what, causing him to stumble backwards. I sprang back to my feet, and forced Darrell into the nearest wall. I brought the knife up to his throat and held it there as I snarled. He grimaced as I pushed it into his flesh just enough to draw a few drops of blood. He looked away. 

If I was going to kill this man, a man I had rivaled with for years who aimed to make my life a living hell, and on top of it all, tried to kill one of the only people I actually cared about, he was going to have to watch me do it. 

“Look at me, bitch!” I fumed. He did, and the moment his eyes snapped to mine, I slit his throat. His hand immediately shot up to clutch his neck, and he sunk to the floor as his last breaths gurgled out of him. I nonchalantly wiped the blood off my face, when the utmost dread hit me.

I wasn’t alone.

I must’ve gotten so carried away in the moment that it slipped my mind. I turned to face him, squeezing my eyes shut, not ready to see his look of horror. I dreadfully opened my eyes, and there it was. The look that reminded me I was a monster. I dropped the knife, disgusted with the impulses I thought I had overcome, begging myself to look anywhere but him. But I couldn’t. His mouth was hanging open and he was frozen, from shock or fear or both. 

“Spen-” I started.

“Here,” he cut me off, pressing the long-lost gun into my now free hand. He stood there staring at me, with an indescribable look of what I could only guess to be hatred, and I knew there was absolutely nothing I could say. What does someone say after brutally killing someone in front of their friend? Nothing I could think of. 

I nodded my head, and continued our path to the loose vent in the bathroom. It took us about twenty of the most excruciatingly silent minutes of my life, until we emerged in the middle of the grassy plains outside of the prison. 

We ran about half a mile to the nearest back road where I saw the familiar black truck waiting for us. I hopped in the passenger seat and gestured for Reid to get in the back. 

“Alionth, you-”

“Owe you?” I finished, “I really fuckin’ do.” I looked over to Deen who was behind the wheel, already barreling away before I had even completely shut the car door. 

“Is this how you did it the first time?”

I knew it was killing Deen that I would never tell him how I got out from the supermax the first time. “No, not really.”

“Harder, easier..?”

“Different. Easier because this wasn’t a maximum security prison, but harder because last time all I had to figure out was how to get _me_ out,” I stated. I suppressed the urge to turn around and look at Reid.

“Did you have a getaway car last time?” Deen said, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Not as good as you,” I offered a half smile.

“But you _did_ have a getaway car?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Why won’t you tell me?” There was no anger, just curiosity.

“I just don’t wanna talk about it, but no, to answer your question. My getaway car was attached to my ankles.”

“Still good on the location?” he asked, a few moments later. 

“Yep,” I answered. I was waiting for Reid to question where that was, but he didn’t. Had he asked, I would have told him that I already had a motel room rented out in Pittsburgh in case of an emergency. This definitely qualified.

The remainder of the five hour drive was painfully silent until finally, when we were only about twenty minutes out from the room, Spencer probed, “Why?”

Deen looked over at me before I looked over at Reid. “Why what?”

“Everything. All of this.”

“I had to get you out,” I answered, as if it were obvious.

“But why like _that_?” I didn’t want to have to answer, but I knew I should at least try. 

“It was just, um, in that moment I thought that…” I struggled out. I had no idea what to say, and there really was no explanation. At least, not a good one, and certainly not one that could justify my actions, especially to him.

“If you can’t answer that then just tell me how many.”

I glanced over at Deen who was looking at me with sympathetic eyes. He’d seen it enough, hell he’d _been_ through it enough, to know what this conversation was and how it ended. We all had made connections at some point that had nothing to do with the ring or what we did. Connections with people that didn’t know who we actually were. But every single time, the truth would come out and we’d have to own up to the shit we’d done, effectively ending the relationship. People could handle glances, sure. Just small peeks behind the curtain. But the moment it was flung open, those people went running. My curtain hadn't just been flung open tonight, it was torn down from the hinges, shredded to pieces and set on fire. There’s no recovery for that. 

So I just sat there, the answer dying in my throat. 

“How. Many,” he spat. 

“Spencer, please-”

“Answer me!”

“You don’t want the answer,” I tried. It was a futile effort, but I had to give it a shot.

“How many people, Chambers? How many people have you just sliced open like that, huh? ‘Cause that was clearly not your first time.” _Chambers. That’s who I was now._

“You knew that a long time ago,” I fought.

“Yeah, I did. But I never imagined anything like that. The look in your eyes, it was … it was _animalistic._ You didn’t even seem _human_ , and it was as if you _enjoyed_ it,” he bellowed. 

I felt his words tug at my heart, threatening to shred me from the inside out. “I know,” I whispered.

After another moment of silence, he repeated, “How many?”

I wasn’t even sure if he heard me when I muttered, “Eighteen.”

“Eigh-” he breathed, not even being able to finish.

“I guess nineteen now.”

“That _you_ personally…”

“Yes. Thirty-seven if you count the ones I was there for, approved, or even called for.” Might as well just put it all out there if I was gonna ruin everything anyway. And when you put it like that, it no longer sounds like survival. And I guess, not all of them were. The ones that weren’t, we classified as “preventative necessary” or “pre-nes” for short. The ones that we knew would become necessary for survival in the future, so we just nipped it in the bud early. 

Needless to say, we finished that drive in more silence.

When we were about two blocks from the motel, Deen parked the truck near an alley. We’d be on foot the rest of the way there. The moment the car came to a stop, Spencer shoved the car door open and an added weight landed on my lap. I looked down and realized he’d tossed the bracelets he’d been wearing back to me, and slammed the car door. I jumped a little at the jolt. 

“Alionth,” Deen started.

“I know,” I whispered, looking over at him.

“It’s how it goes. If it’s any consolation, I’ve noticed a real change in you, a _better_ change. You _are_ different now, and I know there were different feelings behind this one than all of the ones before. Now, I don’t know much about your friend, or _anything_ relationship related for that matter,” and I smiled a bit at his light-hearted tone, “but what I do know, is that most people run a hell of a lot faster than what I just saw from him. He was merely speed-walking while most people are full on sprinting.”

“Yeah, probably because he does this for a living. He deals with monsters and killers as a profession,” I pointed out.

“We both know that doesn’t really matter.”

“Sure it does.”

“It didn’t for me,” Deen said, with a stern look.

I sighed, “You’re right.”

“Look, I’m not saying anything is for sure, hell, we know that better than anyone, but I think there might be a chance there.”

“I don’t know, I really messed up, Deen,” I admitted, looking down at my hands. “Like, _really_ messed up. I don’t think there’s any coming back from this.”

“That might be true, that might not be. But for right now, you have to focus on getting the two of you safe, yeah? That’s the reason all of this happened to begin with right? Because you were trying to keep him safe?” I nodded. “Then push it from your mind right now. Make sure that it wasn’t for nothing and that you finish this out.”

“Okay,” I said, meeting his eyes. “You’re right.”

“You damn right I’m right,” he said with a wink.

I gave him a half smile before leaning in and dropping my voice, “And you’ve got everyone on call in case?”

“Absolutely. They’re all chomping at the bit to get involved and for you to come back. Honestly, I’m worried some are _hoping_ things go wrong,” he smiled, and I blew air out of my nose in a small laugh. That sounded like them, “Now go.”

“Thank you, Deen,” I said, clasping the bracelets around my wrist and sliding out of the car.

“Of course,” he replied. I was about to shut the door when he caught me, “And one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“While you’re spending all this time looking out for him, don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

I nodded and he took off, leaving Reid and I to change clothes in the nearest alley and sneak over to the motel room. 

When we got there, I unlocked the door, quickly wishing I hadn’t, longing to sprint away as fast as I could. 

Standing there, in the middle of the room, was Sheriff Deborah who’d initially arrested Spencer along with the rest of the BAU. 


End file.
